In my hometown, I am known as ‘the black belt.’ As nice as it is to feel recognized, I cringe at the way it sounds. To me, taekwondo is so much more than being a black belt; it is my way of life and my passion. The fourth degree black belt I wear around my waist during class is just a symbol of the journeys I have been through to find myself. I am not only a black belt, but I am driven, dedicated, and determined.
I like to think of my training as a journey, solely because the word ‘training’ complies with the physical aspects of the sport and leaves out the mental and emotional parts. My journey began when I was three years old. I don’t know what sort of discipline most children at that age are exposed to, but I can surely say that my upbringing was a bit unique. I learned that it is important to listen to your elders, or else. No one—especially not me—ever tested to see what would happen if rules were not obeyed. It was some sort of code of respect that was practiced but not necessarily understood.
I was in great physical condition from going to taekwondo three times a week, every week, year after year. There were an abundance of bumps and bruises along the way, and as I got older, several broken bones. I tend to reason that you give some and take some, and I would break those bones all over again if it meant that I got to keep the lessons I learned. I never would have the confidence I have today if it weren’t for taekwondo.
Not everyone has what it takes to become a martial artist, but I knew deep down that I did. My master was from Korea and he had six stripes on his black belt. I admired him greatly for it; six out of nine possible stripes symbolized intense will power and many obstacles, but most of all: success. I wanted to prove to myself that I could achieve greatness too. I put in the work by attending class more frequently and spending one-on-one time with my master and fellow students.
I did have some natural ability in taekwondo but I was never the best. My best friend, Joseph, was always faster, bigger, and stronger than I was. He was—and still is—my inspiration. We have different strengths and weaknesses and we often would work together to better ourselves and each other. Taekwondo is mainly an individual sport, but we united.
I have been training for about fifteen years. There has been a moment of weakness or two where I have wanted to give up; taekwondo takes a toll on the mind and body. It is taxing and time-consuming. Many people earn their black belts and give up. I am eternally grateful that I stuck with it to this day. When I was fifteen years old, I became the youngest fourth degree black belt in the United States Taekwondo Association. I sprained my wrist during the first part of the test, and finished the week after with a cast on in front of the Grand Master of the USTA. I represented my dojang nationally by achieving this rank at such a young age. That was the best day of my life. I learned that hard work pays off and that anything is possible with passion and perseverance.
I still practice taekwondo when I am home, and I got to expand my wisdom even further; for the past two years, I have had the pleasure of teaching the younger students in my dojang. They call me Instructor Victoria and I call them my Littles. They are my pride and joy, and I get to watch their journey as my master and elder peers watched me. I get the opportunity to instill good values in them at a young age; it is the taekwondo chain of events.
Once you get to a certain level of expertise, the cycle continues by passing your knowledge to the next generation. It is beautiful and almost unbelievable that I could make a difference in the lives of children as my mentors did for me. Teaching children, along with continuing my own training, makes me appreciate taekwondo and how it has shaped my life every day.
I like to think of my training as a journey, solely because the word ‘training’ complies with the physical aspects of the sport and leaves out the mental and emotional parts. My journey began when I was three years old. I don’t know what sort of discipline most children at that age are exposed to, but I can surely say that my upbringing was a bit unique. I learned that it is important to listen to your elders, or else. No one—especially not me—ever tested to see what would happen if rules were not obeyed. It was some sort of code of respect that was practiced but not necessarily understood.
I was in great physical condition from going to taekwondo three times a week, every week, year after year. There were an abundance of bumps and bruises along the way, and as I got older, several broken bones. I tend to reason that you give some and take some, and I would break those bones all over again if it meant that I got to keep the lessons I learned. I never would have the confidence I have today if it weren’t for taekwondo.
Not everyone has what it takes to become a martial artist, but I knew deep down that I did. My master was from Korea and he had six stripes on his black belt. I admired him greatly for it; six out of nine possible stripes symbolized intense will power and many obstacles, but most of all: success. I wanted to prove to myself that I could achieve greatness too. I put in the work by attending class more frequently and spending one-on-one time with my master and fellow students.
I did have some natural ability in taekwondo but I was never the best. My best friend, Joseph, was always faster, bigger, and stronger than I was. He was—and still is—my inspiration. We have different strengths and weaknesses and we often would work together to better ourselves and each other. Taekwondo is mainly an individual sport, but we united.
I have been training for about fifteen years. There has been a moment of weakness or two where I have wanted to give up; taekwondo takes a toll on the mind and body. It is taxing and time-consuming. Many people earn their black belts and give up. I am eternally grateful that I stuck with it to this day. When I was fifteen years old, I became the youngest fourth degree black belt in the United States Taekwondo Association. I sprained my wrist during the first part of the test, and finished the week after with a cast on in front of the Grand Master of the USTA. I represented my dojang nationally by achieving this rank at such a young age. That was the best day of my life. I learned that hard work pays off and that anything is possible with passion and perseverance.
I still practice taekwondo when I am home, and I got to expand my wisdom even further; for the past two years, I have had the pleasure of teaching the younger students in my dojang. They call me Instructor Victoria and I call them my Littles. They are my pride and joy, and I get to watch their journey as my master and elder peers watched me. I get the opportunity to instill good values in them at a young age; it is the taekwondo chain of events.
Once you get to a certain level of expertise, the cycle continues by passing your knowledge to the next generation. It is beautiful and almost unbelievable that I could make a difference in the lives of children as my mentors did for me. Teaching children, along with continuing my own training, makes me appreciate taekwondo and how it has shaped my life every day.